


Diamond Dogs

by J1mmyNovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate universe AU, F/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J1mmyNovak/pseuds/J1mmyNovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London, 1998.<br/>Jamie Flynn has dropped out of college to look after her brother, because it seemed nobody else would. Trying to balance a hard domestic life, as well as working in a beaten down old bookshop with nobody to keep her company but Cas, her pessimistic best friend, life would be difficult for any 19 year old let alone one trying to raise a kid simultaneously.<br/>Until one day she meets the Winchesters.<br/>A complete coincidence occurs as the boys come in looking for a spell book that would help finish a case involving a rouge witch and a bunch of mysterious murders, a strange form of attachment brews between Dean and Jay, something neither of them has experienced before.<br/>As a relationship develops life hardens for both of them, but will they be able to survive what is thrown their way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jamie

22nd February 1998  


It was bad enough that it was a Monday, let alone a Monday with no tea bags in the house. I managed to open every cupboard in an angry rage before deciding that coffee was the only possible alternative. I filled the kettle, watched it squeal and reluctantly filled my old flask with the hot beverage.  
‘8:31am.’ I mumbled to myself as I took a peak at my watch. ‘Harvey if you’re not down those stairs in the next thirty seconds I swear to god!’  
A sudden stampede of footsteps could be heard from above as an over-enthusiastic nine year old threw himself down the bannister.  
‘I’m here!’ he cried, panting, a huge grin slapped about his face.  
‘Champion timing.’ I declared reaching for his coat. ‘Now put this on, it may look bright, but it’s still February and there’s a chill.’  
It was getting lighter, and ever so slightly warmer as the days continued, but still not enough to leave the house without at least five layers. This is England after all.  
‘Harvey!’ I said sternly. My brother turned to look at me. ‘Bag?’  
He jumped up, ran to the kitchen and returned within fifteen seconds now with a tattered camouflage rucksack strapped to his back.  
‘Brilliant, let’s go.’ I instructed picking up my own satchel from the clothes peg.  
I fetched my green parka and red tartan scarf and quickly wound it around my neck. Without my noticing, Harvey had twisted the door handle and was already out on the street calling for me.  
I turned slightly taking one last glimpse at the staircase. Nothing.  
‘Dad…’ I called peering a little further forward. ‘Dad we’re going now.’  
Still nothing. Oh well, I turned away and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

Harvey was as lively as ever on the walk to school. He was always cheery; because he didn’t know much else, and that’s how I wanted it to stay. The pavements were sparkly from last night’s rain, with burnt orange leaves scattered all about the place. Just seeing my brother jump into them, kicking them into the air, and watching them fly away with fascination gave me more than enough reason to get out of bed in the morning.  
He wandered over to me eventually and took my hand as we walked through the park.  
‘What’s for tea tonight?’ he asked looking up at me.  
I laughed.  
‘Bloody hell Harve, you’ve only just finished your breakfast!’  
‘I know, but if it’s a nice tea, it means you’ve made me a yucky lunch, but if it’s not a nice tea, then my lunch will be good.’  
I opened my mouth to question the logic of this child.  
‘What are you trying to say about my lunch-making abilities?’ I asked smirking.  
‘You put the weird ham in sometimes.’  
‘You like the weird ham!’ I retorted.  
‘Only on Tuesdays.’  
This stumped me.  
‘Excuse me?’  
‘I said, I only like the weird ham on Tuesdays.’ Repeated Harvey.  
‘And why would that be?’ I asked, genuinely intrigued.  
‘Because Reggie Lambert brings in cream cheese on a Tuesday, and he prefers the weird ham, so we swap, but he only brings it in on that day, and won’t swap with me if it’s not a Tuesday.’  
‘You mean you don’t even eat the ham yourself?’  
Harvey shook his head.  
‘Then why do I bother buying it?’ I asked, my voice rising, laughing at the unexpected turn the conversation had thrown at us.  
‘I told you, because Reggie Lambert likes it.’ Replied my brother, skipping away to chase the pigeons.  
I watched on, amazed. For the last four months I’d be buying odd smelling ham to feed another child with; what a peculiar situation.  
Soon enough I found myself turning down Fedlesham Avenue into the school playground.  
‘Harve!’ I called, beckoning my brother over. He ran at me, eagerly awaiting my goodbye so he could scamper off with his friends.  
‘Right, you have everything yeah?’ I asked.  
He nodded.  
‘Bag? With your lunch? Pencil case? Homework?’  
‘Yes, yes yes yes yes.’ Replied Harve, evidently bored of this daily routine.  
‘Alright clever clogs; just making sure. Okay so I’ll be here at 3:20pm, and please don’t forget your jacket this time, we can’t afford a new one.’  
He nodded again, already in a running position.  
‘Oh one more thing.’ I added quickly before pulling him into a bear hug and kissing his head. He wriggled at first but eventually gave into it and quickly squeezed me back before pulling away and running off to find his buddies.  
‘Be good!’ I called as I shuffled out of the playground.

I didn’t mind doing the school run; it gave me and Harve a special fifteen minutes in the morning to talk before we parted ways, although it was hard, seeing all those parents every day. It just wasn’t something I ever had myself.  
The wind had picked up and was pushing me down the streets towards the tube station.  
Everyone else on the train was doing the commute, ready for the 9-5 in some snazzy office somewhere with a well-paid job and a boss that’s a bit too ‘touchy-feely’.  
This wasn’t exactly reciprocated in my situation. It was true, I was off to work, not in some tall building that over-looked the hustle and bustle of London life, oh no. I was off down a little lane in Portobello Market selling books to those who desired them.  
I’d left school at 17, college wasn’t working out. The learning was alright, and so were my grades, but the 9-3:30 commitment with additional exam prep and homework made the situation at home impossible; I had to drop out, for Harve’s sake. Plus, it’s not like there was anyone to stop me. Anyone who’d really care all too much.  
I took a sip of my coffee once I left the tube. It was still warm, thank god, the flask was full-filling its honourable duty.  
Making some left turns at Hammond’s Bakery and nodding at the postman I saw every morning on his rounds, I turned into Bramble Lane and made it to the shop. The cobbles on the streets made it hard to walk in heavy boots like mine, but they were all I had, and besides they were comfy.  
Balthazar’s books stood out in the middle of the road; it was painted a pale blue, a great contrast to the other brown shops that surrounded. Regardless of its age, it still looked alright. The rustic writing on the high panel of the shop, and the little bell of the door all added to the effect of an antique book shop, although we really just sold anything.  
I took a step inside, calling out.  
‘Balthazar?’  
I walked in a little more cautious as the light wasn’t on.  
‘Mr B?’  
Suddenly there was a crashing noise from the backroom and I heard someone yell, ‘bollocks!’ rather loudly.  
Soon after the light sparked to life and Balthazar was standing behind the counter, a large box in his hand.  
‘Jay!’ he called, a smile appearing. ‘Hello darling, how are we?’  
He dropped the box on the counter-top and made his way towards me, open armed. This is how we greeted every day.  
‘Hiya,’ I said, smiling back, as he approached. He didn’t even hug, just held my arms and air kissed my cheeks, like the French do. How very odd, I thought.  
‘I’m doing well, cheers. What was going on back there?’ I said, gesturing the room at the back.  
‘Oh I just dropped a couple of Enid Blyton’s that’s all, they’ll be right as rain once I dust them off. Are you here all of today darling?’ he asked.  
I nodded.  
‘Yep think so, why you got an order coming in?’  
‘I think so, they said between 10am and 2pm so they could be anytime.’  
‘That’s fine, as long as I’m gone by three, I can do it.’  
Balthazar turned and beamed at me.  
‘Oh you are a darling thank you. I have to go, I’ve got a date.’ He smirked, running to the back room once more as I set down my satchel on the countertop and leant against it.  
‘Ooo anyone nice?’ I winked.  
‘Oh darling I really can’t say, I only met him at a lunch last week with a couple of friends, and now he wants to meet up for a coffee. A bit early for me really, but who would turn down a man looking like him, I’ll never know!’ he replied slipping on his chic black coat and tying it off with his blue woollen scarf.  
I laughed at his last comment. Balthazar had a way with men, a charm that just oozed out of him, like a beam of light highlighting everything good in him.  
‘So have a good day, and make sure the other one turns up on time!’ he called as he fled the shop, blowing a kiss as he went.  
I smiled to myself, enjoying the silence, until I realised we opened in 15 minutes and the place needed sorting out.

I took my stuff through to the back room where we kept bookcases upon bookcases of material, all put in the right order, by author’s surname and by genre. That took me an entire four weeks to do, but it was worth it to see how neat and tidy the place looked afterwards.  
I flicked on the light, finally brightening up the place to see that Balthazar had in fact left four boxes just flung in the middle of the room without any labels or instructions. I sighed.

If you saw Balthazar yourself, you’d never imagine him to own a second-hand bookshop like this one. The truth is that he hadn’t wanted to own it, it was his Father’s and when his first son Michael had denied it, to seek bigger things, or so Balthazar said, it was passed onto him. He could have easily of refused, but accepted the challenge all the same. He didn’t know the first thing about running the shop though. He’d only hired me because I’d been there. It was late afternoon and I was in the café next door with my friend Elsie whilst she was on her lunch break; it was only us in the café, she slumped behind the counter flicking through a magazine, and me sat on a stool blowing at a cup of tea. We’d both dropped out of college around the same time, only Elsie had gotten a job first, mainly because she could charm the pants off anyone and her boss’s son, Harry, had a bit of a thing for her.  
I used to come and sit with her during her breaks all the same, because, obviously there wasn’t much to do, when Balthazar ran in flailing his arms about.  
‘Does anyone know how to fix a burst pipe?’ he’d shouted, holding his arms in the air, soaked head to toe. As it was only us in the café and Elsie wasn’t permitted to leave her post, I offered my services. I was great with the mains and the water and all that, considering I was the only one in my house that fixed anything. It turned out it wasn’t a burst pipe after all, just something up with the taps, which I soon set straight.  
‘Oh darling, how can I ever repay you?’ he asked, pulling me in for a rather damp hug.  
He offered me a job on the spot, after I’d explained my situation, he told me he owed me and that hiring me was the least he could do. So there I was, first employee of the renamed shop 'Balthazar’s books'. He hired a couple more people soon after, just friends of friends looking for work, and then a boy came around inquiring and I eventually persuaded Balthazar that we could do with one more person, flashing a smile, and the boy got it. I’d never let him forget that. I used it against him; oh it was great fun, messing with your friends.

I put my coat on the old hat stand and turned to the little kitchen area to see if we had everything we needed. A couple of aging mugs, a pot of sugar, half a carton of milk and around seven tea bags. That’d have to serve us until lunch time.  
Looking around I noticed it was 9:20am. 10 minutes to get the junkyard sorted out and presentable, an impossible task.  
I zoomed around the shop sorting out the book placements and dusting off the shelves so that we took a few years off the hardbacks that were ancient. Kicking aside the boxes in the backroom, I clapped my hands together, not bad for a flustered 10 minutes without anybody’s help, although the place really could do with a full spring clean. But that wasn’t my problem.  
As the clock reached half past and I flipped the sign over so it read 'Open', there was a running noise from outside. I stepped back from the door; I knew what was coming. Seconds later it was yanked open and in sprinted an out of breath young man with dark hair and his coat flapping out behind him.  
‘How’d...I…do?’ he panted, his hands on his knees.  
I looked at my watch.  
‘9:30 on the dot. Record timing Cas.’ I smiled patting his back and moving over to the counter.  
After regaining a few rasps of breath, Cas took off his bag and threw it into a nearby armchair as he leant on the kiosk.  
‘Old B ain’t here then?’ he grinned looking up at me through his fringe. I rolled my eyes.  
‘He’s not old Cas! And never let him here you say that, just because he’s camp doesn’t mean he can’t wallop you one.’ I warned opening up the till.  
‘Well I’m pretty proud of myself, if I do say so.’ He admitted, smiling and removing his trench coat. ‘Never been so early in my life.’  
I turned back to him.  
‘Oh you think I don’t know that?’ I cried arms in the air. ‘Cas man, he only gave you the job because I persuaded him, stop jeopardising it!’ I replied punching his arm playfully.  
Cas grinned back at me once more.  
‘Oh for the love of Christ, stop with the sob story, I know I owe you one, okay?’ he stated winking at me.  
I shook my head laughing and walking through to the back room.  
‘You want a cup of tea?’ I called.  
‘Got anything stronger?’ he asked back, fiddling with a stray copy of Animal Farm.  
I shook my head again.  
‘That comes later Cas remember,’ I joked, putting the kettle on. He was always on about drinking at work, one time I genuinely thought he’s slipped some gin in my PG Tips, but it was just the lime scale of the mug.

Cas joined me in the backroom after a while, putting some books back on the stock shelves and opening the boxes that Balthazar had left behind.  
‘Oh no, not more Bach biographies, nobody bloody reads them.’ Complained Cas drawing out at least six hardbacks all with the same awful portrait drawn on the front. I chuckled. Cas’ accent really was illuminated when he complained; he made everything sound as if it were the end of the world.  
‘Regardless of what your opinion on classical composers is, I don’t think Balthazar will change his mind, he loves this stuff.’ I said, taking it from him and throwing it on the shelf next to the series of Handle novels named 'The art of the hand', which to us just sounded dodgy.  
However our thoughts were broken when we heard the sound of a bell ringing in the shop out front, I looked at Cas.  
‘Go on, you can have this one.’ He said grinning at me once more.  
I rolled my eyes, he was so reluctant to do anything, it was hilarious.  
So I went through the archway and into the main store, ready to assist the first customer of the day.


	2. Dean

22nd February 1998  


‘Dean? Wake up. Come on man, we’ve got a big day. If you don’t wake up, I’ll drive off.’ Sam mocked.  
Dean’s eyes snapped open. Nobody touched baby but him.  
‘I’m up, I’m up.’ He grumbled, pulling off the sheets and rubbing his eyes. ‘What time is it?’  
‘3:33am.’ Sam replied moving back over to his bed and folding a shirt. ‘We’ve really got to get a move on.’  
Dean rolled out of bed, literally falling on the floor and hoisting himself back up again, all to the timing of Sam rolling his eyes.  
‘One too many tequilas d’ya think?’ Said Dean, smirking.  
‘How about six too many Dean, now hurry, I wanna get gone before the entirety of England gets on the highway.’  
‘Motorway Sammy.’ Dean corrected. ‘Motorway.’  
Sam gave him a look that would’ve been spat, had it needed words.  
‘I’m just saying, we been here five months now and you aren’t even down on the lingo? Shame on you.’  
Dean chuckled to himself as Sam turned back to packing his bag.  
‘Dean just go and get ready.’ He instructed without turning around. There was a pause. ‘Now!’  
The elder Winchester jumped into action at that point.  
‘Yes sir, Sargent Sam sir!’ he joked marching towards the bathroom.

15 minutes later Dean emerged again, now freshly washed; his still damp hair sticking up on his head, as his grey shirt clung to his torso. He was also wearing the same jeans he’d been wearing for the past week, but who was to know.  
‘Aw Sam, I’m gunna miss this hotel, those beds are great.’ Mentioned Dean, eyeing up the double he’d had all to himself, and sighing at the thought of sleeping in his car again.  
‘It won’t be the biggest thing we’ve ever left behind Dean.’ Smirked Sam, throwing his leather jacket at his brother. ‘Can we go now?’  
‘Jeez Sam you’re just like a little kid again today.’ Dean grunted putting on the jacket. ‘You’ve been the same since you were five, trying to tell me what to do, but here’s what I say to that, watch it little brother.’  
Dean stepped in, close to Sam, wagging his finger in his face.  
Sam just laughed.  
‘Oh yeah, if I’m so little then how come I’m three inches taller than you?’ he smirked, purposely looking down on Dean and laughing.  
Dean’s facial expression burrowed as he looked away.  
‘Dammit Sam come on.’  
Sam didn’t move, clutching his chest in laughter whilst Dean walked towards the door.  
‘Sam, come on!’ he grunted leaving the room.  
Sam eased up on the laughing after about two minutes and went out to join his, smaller, brother in the parking lot.

Two hours passed on the motorway and Dean was bored. They’d stopped off at a McDonalds for breakfast; well, he had, Sam just sat in the car eating a tangerine. The scenery in the English countryside was beautiful, different to anything they’d seen when traveling state to state in the US, although there were less motels and drive-thru’s to stop at out in England.  
‘I called Bobby on the payphone while you were…’ Sam gestured to the empty burger wrapper.  
‘Oh yeah?’ Dean mumbled his mouth full of milkshake.  
‘Apparently he had a tip off,’ Sam continued looking at the map that Dean kept in the dashboard compartment. ‘There’s been a sighting somewhere near London, and he wants us to check it out.’  
Dean looked up at Sam.  
‘London?’ he repeated.  
‘That’s what he said,’ Sam replied, flipping the map over, trying to locate their current whereabouts.  
‘But that’s miles away!’ complained Dean, throwing his arms up. ‘And we’re…’ he looked around him, outside of the windows, ‘well we’re in the middle of nowhere.’  
‘Dean come on, we’ve driven further than this in one night!’ Sam reassured. ‘England’s tiny man, it’s smaller than the Texas alone, it won’t take long at all.’  
Dean huffed beside him.  
‘London. Why would it go there? That city’s crowded with people.’  
Sam raised his eyebrows.  
‘Exactly.’ He said, ‘maybe we’re looking at a bigger attack, maybe four, five vics. We gotta check it out Dean.’  
‘Yeah yeah, I know.’ Answered his brother, looking on at the road ahead. ‘Well I’ll put the gas on.’

After another hour of driving, and several attempts at falling asleep at the wheel, Dean noticed a couple of road signs pointing towards the capital city.  
‘Thank god.’ He muttered under his breath. ‘I’m sick of seeing sheep whatever direction I turn.’  
Sam looked up from his book.  
‘Hrmm?’ he asked.  
Dean shook his head.  
‘Nothing man, what’cha reading?’  
Sam raised his eyebrows again.  
‘Really?’ he scoffed.  
Dean’s expression burrowed.  
‘What I can’t even take an interest in your education?’ he questioned, looking at his brother.  
Sam smirked.  
‘Hardly my education Dean, just a bit of light reading.’  
‘Let me see that.’  
Dean snatched the book from Sam’s hands, looking at it with a peculiar expression.  
‘Dude, its all scribbles and stuff, that ain’t English.’ He complained, flicking through.  
‘No Dean, that’s French.’ Replied Sam, baby-talking him.  
‘You speak French?’ asked his brother, it was his turn to raise his eyebrows now.  
‘Un peu.’  
Dean looked at him again, how were they related?  
‘Sorry, no hablo le franglais.’ Said Dean throwing the book back at his brother, whilst Sam just shook his head with laughter.  
Dean looked back out into the road. At least it wasn’t raining, he thought. It’d rained almost every other day during their time in England, which had been a while now.  
Bobby had sent them out in September, on the hunt for a rouge vampire that had been separated. It’d been literal hell for Dean; the plane journey was six hours. Six hours singing Asia under his breath as not to annoy other passengers. The hunt for the vampire hadn’t lasted long, a month at most, but soon enough Bobby was calling them up every week with new cases he’d been told of, ready for the boys to find.  
Dean quite liked the UK; it was a good change from the US, not as many drunkards trying to steal his car at night, and plenty of good looking women, although the girls were very different over there.  
The accent for one was something Dean hadn’t really noticed previously, of course he’d met British people before, and thought they just sounded stuck-up, but being in a country full of people that sounded the same, with you the unique one’s for once was odd for him.  
It was Sam who was in his element though. In almost every town they stopped in there was a library around the corner, somewhere for him to do his research, and sit quietly without Dean making inappropriate jokes every few minutes. He’d had a great time with the ladies recently, Dean teased him about them taking pity on him because he couldn’t cut his own hair, but really it was down to his smile; Sam looked happy wherever he went, the same could not be said for Dean.  
Leaving Bobby behind really took his toll on him. There wasn’t someone there to complain or bitch to, or even discuss Sammy with; it was weird for him. Plus, now that Sam was the one doing well and taking control of everything Dean felt a bit…lost.

‘According to this, pull out at this junction.’ Sam instructed, rotating the road map and pointing out of the car window.  
Dean nodded following Sam’s finger.  
They turned into the off-road and drove for another twenty minutes before seeing any signs of civilisation until suddenly in the horizon Dean just about made out a tall building that was blocking the mid-day sun.  
‘Ugh, Sammy.’ He mumbled, gesturing towards it.  
Sam leant forward in his seat, trying to make the image out of the window a little clearer.  
‘Yup, that’s St. Pauls Cathedral, we’re here.’  
Dean nodded once more, turning down a side alley he noticed. There weren’t any cars around, so he just parked on the sidewalk, locking up the Impala, kissing his fingers and resting them on the bonnet before walking away.  
‘Stay safe baby.’ He whispered. Looking up he saw Sam staring at him, but his brother just shook his head and sauntered off down the street. He was just about used to it by now.

Sam and Dean set off into the capital city; they’d never been before so it was all new to them. Everything they knew about London was stuff they’d either heard on the radio or from shit movies. It was a lot busier for one; then again it was 8am on a Monday morning.  
‘What else did Bobby say when you called him?’ Dean asked, scanning the streets for any immediate signs of witch-craft.  
‘Nothing really, he was really brief, he kept going on about doing a job with Rufus, but I’ll drop him a line.’  
The boys turned into the next road and spotted a line of telephone boxes ahead of them, perfect, they thought in unison.  
After several attempts, Sam dialled the number for Bobby’s third cell, and he picked up instantly.  
‘Hello, this is Inspector Clooney speaking.’ Came the voice.  
‘Clooney? Really Bobby?’ smirked Sam.  
‘Hey, when you boys aren’t around I got nothing else to do but watch ER all day, so sue me!’  
‘ER?’ mouthed Dean, a shocked expression spreading across his face as he leant in to listen to the call.  
‘Whatever floats your boat Bobby.’ Laughed Sam. ‘Anyway, we’re here, arrived about 10 minutes ago, you got anything else for us?’  
‘Yeah, hold on.’ Replied Bobby.  
After about a minute of muffled noises and the sound of paper rustling, Bobby returned to the hand set.  
‘Yeah there was a sighting from another guy I got working in the field, two days ago in Piccadilly Square.’ He reported, evidently reading out from a piece of paper.  
‘Dude isn’t that a relish?’ asked Dean, now even more confused than ever.  
Sam just brushed him off.  
‘Okay, so what do you want us to do?’ Sam continued.  
‘The other hunter who’s also on the lookout told me that there was some sort of spell book out there that he was trying to get a hold of, something this witch could be using.’  
‘I know you idgit,’ sighed Bobby. ‘That’s why we gotta get this done and dusted soon as.’  
‘Okay then, well did your guy get the book?’ questioned Dean.  
‘Last I heard from him, he said he thought he’d found it in London, I didn’t catch the street name, but I wrote down the zip code. Then he just disappeared, ain’t heard nothing from him since.’ Finished Bobby.  
‘Spooky.’ Commented Dean, raising his eyebrows and passing the handset back to his younger brother.  
‘Alright, we’ll check it out.’ Said Sam, getting out a pen, ‘what was the zip code Bobby?’  
‘W11 1LJ.’ Replied Bobby sternly. ‘But you boys be careful, seems like we’re dealing with a tough one this time.’ He warned.  
‘Sure.’ Answered Sam, smiling at the outburst of Bobby’s suppressed compassion. ‘We’ll call you if we find anything.’ Said Sam, putting the phone down.  
The Winchesters looked at each other.  
‘Okay, so off to find this spell-book thing.’ Stated Dean, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘Let’s start over here.’


	3. Jamie

22nd February 1998  


As soon as I walked into the shop front, I knew something was up. These two didn’t look like the regulars; usually it was old ladies that wandered in and out of our shop, on the lookout for some vintage flower arranging novel, but these guys were very different indeed.  
One was extremely tall, with a fringe and longish light brown hair that stuck out over his ears, he was young, his cheekbones told me that. He was dressed in jeans, as was the other wearing boots and a plaid shirt with a nutmeg coloured bomber jacket. Very attractive, Elsie would’ve loved him, I thought.  
Then I looked at the other boy, the first was pretty, but looked so innocent compared to his friend. This one was smaller, just by a bit, a whole lot taller than me, and Cas for that matter, but shorter than the first. He, again, was wearing jeans, with a deep grey coloured t-shirt that clung to his chest, over this was a green open shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and on top he wore a battered dark brown leather jacket that looked very old. It looked too big for the boy, but somehow the over-sized value to it suited him. Suited him rather well indeed.  
He had darker hair and a lot shorter, cropped above his ears with a slight flick to it. His nose was curved just right to sit perfectly on his face, doused in light brown freckles that surrounded his t-area.  
Then I noticed his eyes.  
Like two dazzling emeralds from the crown of some foreign ruler. He blinked and the moisture from his eyelids seemed to make them sparkle even more.  
Like I said, nothing like our regulars.  
‘Hi.’ Said the older one approaching me. ‘I’m Inspector Littman, this is my partner Agent Thomas, we’d like a few words with you please.’  
He brought out his FBI badge and flashed it in front of my face, as I studied it I noticed something very wrong indeed.  
‘You’re lying.’ I replied, looking into his eyes.  
That certainly wasn’t the reaction the so-called ‘inspector’ was expecting. He looked taken a back and glanced over at his friend.  
‘I’m sorry?’ he asked, confused.  
‘That’s a fake badge. My dad’s a retired con-artist mate, I can spot them a mile off, plus it says ‘bikini inspector’ right there under your fake signature.’ I said, raising my eyebrows and pointing out his error.  
The man looked straight back at me, bewildered, he didn’t even bother to check his mistake; it was obvious he knew it was there, he just never thought anyone would call him out on it.  
‘I’ve shown real police officers that badge and nobody’s ever said a word.’ He breathed, narrowing his eyes at me.  
I smiled back in response.  
‘Well, maybe they’re just not as clever as me.’ I replied, winking.  
He took a few steps back as his friend approached the kiosk. I looked up at him and he smiled at me.  
‘Hey, sorry about that, that’s my brother playing a little joke.’ He laughed, holding his hands up. I nodded, not convinced.  
‘I’m Dean.’ He said out of the blue. I didn’t know quite how to respond, so I just muttered after tripping over my words a few times.  
‘Jaime. Jay. I’m Jay.’ I stammered, flushing slightly. I always kept my cool around strangers, only this guy had some weird effect on me.  
‘Well, Sam said Jay; we need to ask you a few questions, just about who you’ve sold books to recently.’ Dean replied, flashing another, truly American, smile.  
I nodded once more.  
‘Well okay, although you don’t have to be police officers to ask you know.’ I said, winking at Sam, who stood behind, he turned away; a little embarrassed, I thought.  
Dean laughed at that. Not a big laugh, just a little smirk at the thought of me teasing his brother.  
‘Okay, well it would have been between last Wednesday and yesterday, a little guy, scrawny. That’s what Bobby said, right Sammy?’ he turned to face his brother as Sam walked back to us.  
‘Yeah, slim, brown hair, might have been wearing aviators?’ he suggested, shrugging. I thought back over the last week.  
I shook my head.  
‘I was in Wednesday to Friday, and didn’t see anyone like that. Although I wasn’t here over the weekend, so I’m sure, but let me go get someone.’ I replied, taking a few steps back.  
I leant against the wall, still making eye contact with Dean. He didn’t break away, just held my gaze, his lip curled into a smile. I moved my head back, calling through the arch.  
‘Cas.’ I cried, knocking on the wall. ‘Cas you need to talk to someone.’  
I heard a muffled sigh of annoyance from inside the back room as Cas finally shuffled out, looking straight at me.  
He leant against the other side of the arch, not even having noticed our customers.  
‘How can I be of assistance?’ He smiled sweetly, although I could practically smell the sarcasm.  
‘Castiel dearest, these lovely gentlemen have some questions to ask you.’ I replied, in the same bitter-sweet manor, a cheesy grin slapped across my face.  
Cas turned then to notice the two tall men standing in our shop, he jumped slightly before walking forward.  
‘Hey, how can I help?’ he asked, looking sheepish.  
‘Were you here on the weekend?’ asked Sam, perched behind his brother.  
Cas nodded.  
‘Yup, all weekend all on my lonesome.’ He looked back to me at this point, an evil stare arising. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t work Saturday or Sunday, but Harve needed me.  
‘Cool.’ Sam continued looking down at a notepad that I presumed he’d only brought along for the effect of an ‘inspector’, but apparently it served some actual purpose. ‘Did you see a skinny, brown haired guy, maybe some kinda weird glasses?’  
Cas’ expression changed to one of recollection, rolling his eyes back in head, as if all the answers were somewhere in his the back of his face.  
‘He’d have been looking for something like this.’ Dean interrupted, holding a ragged piece of paper. I leant in, closer to Cas to see exactly what it was. Drawn on in pencil was a five point star with fire, earth, spirit, water and air written at each spike. I looked up back to Dean, who, it turned out, was looking straight back at me.  
‘Oh right yeah.’ Said Cas, breaking the silence and nodding. ‘He was here Saturday I think, looking for an old book?’  
Sam and Dean looked at each other as Dean pocketed the paper.  
‘Did he find it? This book?’ Sam asked, eager.  
Cas shook his head this time as I watched the expression of both brothers fall.  
‘We looked for ages, we have a weird section over there in the corner about fairy tales and crap, and like medieval stuff, but I couldn’t see anything like it, so he left, in quite a hurry really.’ Cas replied, thinking about it.  
Sam nodded back him, turning back to look at his brother and walking towards the door.  
‘Well thanks anyway.’ He murmured, raising his arm to wave. ‘Dean?’  
Dean was still poised in his previous position, looking at me. I squinted, trying to figure out what he was looking at. After a minute he burst into life, making me jump a little.  
‘Right, well if you hear anything, or see him again, could you give us a ring?’ he asked, snatching a pen from the desk and writing a number on the back of the piece of paper he’d shown us earlier.  
Cas nodded leaning over to take the paper, ready to outstretch his arm, when Dean folded it up and put it into my hand. Cas looked at me with a similar confused expression that I’d previously given this stranger. Dean looked up at me when he did it, winking one last time before sauntering out of the shop after his brother.  
I didn’t move for a movement and just held my hand very still where he’d touched my skin. It felt warm.  
‘Well,’ sighed Cas looking out after them. ‘They were weird.’  
I nodded slowly, coming back to reality.  
‘Well they were from your neck of the woods.’ I commented. ‘You’re all weird I think.’  
Cas laughed a fake cackle.  
‘Funny!’ he jaunted, walking back into the other room.  
‘Ugh, when’s lunch I’m starving!’ cried Cas.  
I soon followed suit, after glancing once more at the shop door.

‘What do you mean American?’ asked Elsie, sucking on the cherry from her milkshake.  
‘I mean they were from America Els, what do you think I mean?’ I replied.  
‘So this tall one, how tall are we talking?’ she questioned leaning in.  
‘I don’t know, about 6ft4?’ I guessed, shrugging, being honest he wasn’t the one I was focused on.  
‘Oo six four, lovely.’ Elsie breathed, winking at me as she sipped at her drink again. I laughed. Typical of her to fancy someone she’s known existed for five seconds.  
‘They honestly weren’t that great.’ Interjected Cas walking over from the counter, clutching a bacon sandwich.  
‘Ahaa, you’re just jealous!’ Elsie teased, pointing at him as he sat down next to me on the couch. He looked at me, raising his eyebrows.  
‘Well Jay certainly enjoyed that shorter one.’  
I gave him a bit of a stare before thumping him on the arm.  
‘Shut up Cas, man.’ I whispered, smirking at him.  
‘Dude, no he was looking at you the whole time, he didn’t even give a shit about the book in the end.’ He explained, tucking into his sandwich.  
Elsie looked up at me, raising her eyebrows. I tilted my head, trying to push off her gaze, although she just smiled at me, she could tell, I know.  
It was quiet in the café, as usual, being tucked away in the alley behind the actual market, nobody much came in there. At that current moment, Cas, Elsie and I were perched around the coffee table at the front of the shop, her sitting on the wicker chair opposite the window that me and Cas were underneath on a rather slouched brown leather sofa. We’d turned over the sign in the bookshop at around one o’clock. Nobody had been in since Sam and Dean that morning, so we weren’t exactly missing out on business, plus we were entitled to a lunch break.  
Elsie got up after a minute and went back to the kitchen, returning with a cupcake and a slice of blackberry pie. I perked up after seeing that; it was my every day lunch, that as well as a can of whatever was in the fridge.  
She handed me the pie with a fork and I dug in. She bit into her cupcake, licking her lips, but missing the bit of icing that was stuck to her cheek. Cas let out a little laugh as he eyed him up and down suspiciously.  
‘Don’t you too get bored in there?’ she asked eventually, pulling out a magazine from the rack next to the window. ‘I mean there aren’t too many people interested in the crap you sell.’  
‘Ugh, tell me about it.’ Added Cas, eating his crusts and rolling his eyes. ‘Place is a bloody graveyard most days.’  
I shrugged.  
‘I don’t know,’ I whispered. ‘I like it, it’s quiet, well would be if this lump here would shut up occasionally.’ I motioned towards Cas as he flicked me behind the ear.  
We carried on eating our lunch in silence for a few moments before we heard the back door open.  
‘Els?’ came a voice.  
Cas and I looked up as Elsie got to her feet and ran to the kitchen.  
We heard a squeal from behind the counter, and looked at each other, confused.  
After a few moments, she re-appeared now clutching the hand of a tall, brown haired boy. Who was very very good looking. I squinted at him, trying to put a name to the face.  
‘Jay, Cas, this is Harry.’ She beamed, swinging his arm with hers.  
The boy looked at us for a moment, smiling slightly, but it was obvious he couldn’t keep his eyes off Els, which was a reciprocated motion.  
Cas was looking at them, but turned quickly. He didn’t really do affection, nor did I, to be honest, but there was something about Els that made it tolerable, maybe it was because I knew her well, I knew she deserved this. They came to join us after that, Harry sitting down on Elsie’s original chair and pulling her onto his lap. Almost immediately his hands were in her hair, pulling at the ends, and twisting it around his little finger. Picturesque adorableness.  
‘So Harry, how come you’re here?’ asked Cas, not meaning to sound rude, but it came out that way regardless.  
‘Oh my band’s on a break, we’re performing tonight, and I thought I’d sneak away to come and see this lovely lady.’ He replied, kissing the top of Elsie’s head as she grinned back up at him. Cas nodded, pretending to care.  
I giggled at his lack of social skills, he tried, but only when he could be bothered did he hold a substantial conversation. I looked back at the love birds, which were wrapped in each others arms, taking it as our queue to leave.  
‘Well, we’d better be off.’ I said, standing up and brushing the crumbs off of my jumper.  
Cas practically leaped from his seat by my side.  
‘Aww, you’re not going are you?’ enquired Elsie looking up, but it was obvious her priorities were lying with the gorgeous man she had draped across her arm.  
‘Yeah man, we’d better open up shop, those weird old grandpas need to buy their 1930s horticulture books from somewhere.’ I joked, smiling and I pulled the door to.  
‘See you later.’ Mumbled Cas as he walked passed me, and into our shop next door.  
Elsie waved as did Harry before turning back to face each other.  
I took one last glance before leaving the shop.  
She looked so happy, I thought.  
I wanted that.


End file.
